


First Light

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 19:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11341944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Pendrell meets Courtenay





	First Light

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

First Light by Halrloprillalar

28 Nov 98  
DISTRIBUTION: OK for Archive/X, Socks Shoppe. Elsewhere by permission. Email forwarding is allowed.  
RATING: NC17 for M/M sex.  
SPOILERS: none.  
SUMMARY: Pendrell meets Courtenay.  
DISCLAIMER: Pendrell belongs to CC, 1013, and Fox. Courtenay is the cat who walks by himself.  
THANKS TO: Radclyffe, for great and helpful beta.  
For CiCi, who asked for it.  
November 1998

* * *

First Light  
by Halrloprillalar  
<>

Phoibos Apollon...ho d' eie nukti eoikos.  
Bright Apollo...he came like the night.  
-Iliad 1.43, 47.

The first time Pendrell saw Jerry Courtenay, they were both naked.

Thursday morning before work, Pendrell stood in the gymnasium shower, lathering away the lingering whiffs of chlorine, mind sketching out his morning's project. A jingle brought him to just in time to see the curtain on his right sweep aside, revealing a tall blond man. Completely revealing him.

Surprise froze Pendrell for a second, then a social defense mechanism--pretend we're not nude in the shower--kicked in and he managed to frame a question.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm out of shampoo--can I borrow some?" A smile flashed brightly.

"Sure, help yourself." Easy enough.

"Thank you." The man reached past Pendrell to the rack and, picking up the bottle, squeezed a dollop into his left palm. "You know, if you swim a lot, you should probably use a special shampoo to keep the chlorine from drying out your hair."

"Oh, thanks."

"By the way, I'm Jerry Courtenay." The blond held out his right hand to shake. Reflexively, Pendrell held his out too, then realised he was still clutching the soap. He shifted it and took the offered hand, trying to telegraph through his grip that he was pleased to meet Jerry, was just a regular guy, and was not at all embarrassed to be soapy and stark naked.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Daniel Pendrell." Courtenay...Courtenay... He twigged. "You're transferring to our section next week, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. I'm really looking forward to working under you." Courtenay massaged the shampoo into his scalp. "So, until Monday?" Eyes like searchlights swept Pendrell from top to bottom.

"Uh...yeah. I'm looking forward to it too." How stupid did *that* sound?

One more grin shone out and the curtain jangled closed.

Pendrell stood dumbly under the sluicing heat, cooler than his skin, and waited until he judged it safe to emerge. Putting away the soap, he saw his fingerprints ridged into it. He headed for his locker, armoured in terry. No one molested him; Courtenay was nowhere in sight. Still, he dressed furtively and took the back stairs to the lab.

He was going to be late for work.

***

He was late for work and once there, he couldn't get anything done for thinking about the strange encounter. At the time, shock and discomfort had kept him from taking in much about Courtenay's appearance, but the image slowly developed and now the vision was clear and sharp as any photograph.

Courtenay stood where the curtain was meant to hang, wet droplets clinging to his skin. Hair, dull gold with water, curled and spiked on his scalp. A stern classical beauty of nose and chin, of cheekbones like honed blades, contrasted with his brilliant smile. And his eyes--bittersweet chocolate that glowed darkly. Radioactive chocolate.

Pendrell's mental gaze slid downwards, taking in the shoulders, broad but not bulging, the chest, toned and tanned with copper penny nipples. Trim stomach, good abs, curls again, more bronze than gold, and...

Pendrell blinked, shifting his mind's eye quickly over Courtenay's genitalia and down the long brown legs, but soon found the view drifting upwards again. Locker room curiosity, he told himself. He was no connoisseur of cocks, but Courtenay's seemed nice enough, cut and as tanned as the rest of him. The balls hung heavily, a little lower on the left.

Oh God, he was so behind. Pendrell shook his head, trying to dislodge the image, and applied himself to his microscope. The slide he examined looked nothing like Courtenay. Good.

A sudden thought slapped him across the face. What did Courtenay think of him? Was it even remotely possible that Courtenay noticed what he looked like? Surely not, not Mr Forgettable Pendrell. But he remembered the searching eyes travelling him as he now travelled their owner.

Insecurity burned his skin and he closed his eyes, trying to think about something else.

"Pendrell, are you OK? You don't look very well." Agent Helmers eyed him sharply as he looked up. "Maybe you should take a break."

He smiled at her in what he hoped was a calm and reassuring fashion. "I'm just a little hot. I'll be fine." He bent his head again, forcing himself to focus on the slide. Which he managed for about two minutes. He was going to have to stay late.

***

Monday morning found Pendrell talking to his cat as he chose his tie.

"The blue stripe or the green stripe? Which do you think?" He looked at the boneless black heap on the bed. "Do you think it matters? Do you think I'm being stupid?" He sat down and stroked the lazy fur. "Why should I care? It's just a tie."

Laying both ties on the bed, he shook the cat gently. "Come on, Macavity, choose one." Pendrell took one paw and stretched it towards the ties, then let go. Macavity reached out without even opening his eyes and touched the blue one.

"Blue it is. Thanks, Mac."

Pendrell slipped the tie around his neck and knotted it into a careful full Windsor. Running a comb one more time through his Saturday-cut hair, he stared critically into the mirror. Extra attention to his usual neat and tidy appearance had transformed him into someone a little neater and a little tidier.

But why should he care? Time for breakfast anyhow.

***

Pendrell arrived at the lab early. He made coffee and poured himself a cup to sit at his elbow while he went through some paperwork in his back office. A particularly interesting lab report caught his eye and he forgot to be apprehensive, losing himself in data and details.

The soft click of the door woke him to a figure standing dimly outside the circle of the desk lamp. The fluorescents stuttered on, illuminating Jerry Courtenay.

"I'm early," he said. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, Agent Pendrell."

Pendrell stood. "No, of course not." He studied Courtenay, cataloguing the wire-rims, the blue shirt, the dark tie. The glow of skin that the sickly light could not leach away.

"I hope you remember me...we met the other day. Jerry Courtenay." Smiling, Courtenay stretched out his hand.

"I remember." Pendrell reached out too and as their hands met, the memory flashed into his vision, Courtenay wet and gleaming, smiling and staring, palm to palm with him. He shut his eyes to the image, but it still flickered behind his lids.

"Are you OK?"

Pendrell blinked awake and loosed his grip. "Still asleep I guess. Have some coffee?"

"Thank you."

Glad of something to do while he marshalled his thoughts, Pendrell found a spare mug and poured out. "How do you take it?"

Courtenay followed him to the coffee. "Black as sin, sweet as love."

"Uh...the sugar is right there." Pendrell retreated to the desk for his own cup and took a swallow. Cold as ice. He drank it anyway. "The others should be in soon, so I'll introduce you around then. We can have a look at the lab now, if you like."

"The tour--by all means." Courtenay's eyes gleamed at him over the rim of the mug.

Pendrell led the way into the lab and pointed out the various instruments, supplies, safety equipment, and the like. By then the other agents began to trickle in and he did the honours.

He watched as Helmers held Courtenay's gaze along with his hand, just a little longer than was strictly necessary. You don't want a pretty boy like that, Helmers, he thought.

The agents soon took up their projects and Pendrell turned to Courtenay. "I've got some soil samples for you to go over. Sorry I don't have anything more interesting for you to start on."

"No problem--low man, after all." Courtenay rested a friendly hand on Pendrell's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll have something better for me later."

"Yeah. So, if you have any questions about anything, just ask." Pendrell smiled up at Courtenay.

"I will. You have been so helpful, Agent Pendrell. Thank you." Courtenay squeezed Pendrell's shoulder, then gathered up his soil samples and headed to a corner of the lab.

Pendrell still felt the warm weight of Courtenay's hand. Only when he was twenty minutes into his work did he finally reach thermal equilibrium. Then the science consumed him and he knew no more for several hours.

Putting the finishing touches on his report, Pendrell signed his name with an unaccustomed flourish. He breathed in and out deeply, rolling his neck back and forth a little as he relaxed.

"You look like you could use a break."

Courtenay again. "Yeah, I guess so." Pendrell stood so he wouldn't feel quite so loomed-over. "Are you making out OK?"

"Just fine. Agent Helmers was really very helpful." Courtenay treated him to a flashing grin. "But I wanted to ask you if you usually followed a schedule for lunch breaks or if it was free-style."

Helpful Helmers, figures. "No, just take your lunch when you like. There are enough of us that someone is always here."

"Are you ready for lunch? We could go together. There's a great diner a couple of blocks away."

Pendrell opened his mouth to say he had a cheese sandwich in the fridge and heard, "Great, I'd love to." Oh well, the sandwich would keep. He swapped his lab coat for his overcoat and they left together.

***

On the walk over, the bright spring air and Courtenay's easy small talk buoyed Pendrell's mood, smoothed out the vague anxiety that wrinkled his soul. They sat by the window and ate egg salad on rye, gilded by the noonday sun. Chatting about the lab, the weather, movies they had seen, Pendrell suddenly realised the conversation had shifted and he was talking about himself.

"Happy? I love my job. A lot of what I do is routine, but once in a while something interesting comes along and I have to innovate. It's fun." Pendrell took another bite of his sandwich.

Courtenay pushed his empty plate aside and leaned over the table, propping up his cheek with one long forearm. "What about the rest of your life? What do you do with your time?" Eyes sought and held Pendrell's gaze. "Family? Friends? Significant other?"

"There's my cat." Pendrell groaned inwardly. He sounded like such a loser. "I mean, I have friends. My family doesn't live here."

"No partner? You shouldn't let your work keep you from a social life."

"I guess I like things quiet." Really quiet. "What about you, Agent Courtenay?" Pendrell finished his lunch and wiped his hands on the small paper napkin.

"My friends call me Jerry. Or sometimes Court."

"Then it's Daniel. What about you...Jerry?"

"Just like you, I think. Family out of state, left a difficult relationship behind on the west coast, haven't really been here long enough to build up much of a life." Courtenay smiled. "So, I was glad you agreed to go for lunch. I've really enjoyed it." Twisting his head to an awkward angle, he squinted at his watch. "But I don't want to get in trouble with my supervisor on the first day." His eyes glittered. "Shall we go?"

Pleased and disappointed that the hour was almost over, Pendrell picked up the bill to calculate his share, only to feel it slip from his grasp.

"My treat today."

Before he could protest, Courtenay had paid the cashier and stood by the door. Nothing to do but follow.

It was still too cold to go without a coat, but the faint hint of green and warmth in the breeze made it impossible to wear one, so they carried them and braved the world in shirtsleeves. Walking briskly, Pendrell savoured the chill tingle of his cheeks. He took one last deep lungful of the living air before they made their way through the building.

"I hate to come back in--it's too nice out today." Pendrell looked up at Courtenay as they strode side by side.

Courtenay looked back. "Please, can't we play softball this afternoon instead of math class?" They both laughed and it carried them through the lab door.

"Agent Courtenay, can I show you something?" Helmers, with a microscope and a hopeful expression.

Courtenay glanced at her. "Sure, just let me hang up my coat." He followed Pendrell to the rack and picked up his white lab coat, but didn't put it on. Pendrell was shrugging into his when Courtenay laid one light finger on the knot of Pendrell's tie.

"I like that colour." He smiled and it was like a solar flare. "It makes your eyes look very blue." And he turned, making his way over to Helmers, leaving a spicy hint of aftershave behind him.

Shock raced along the nerves just under Pendrell's skin, in his face, everywhere. Leaving the coat unbuttoned, he stumbled into the back office and sat in front of his computer. Staring at the desktop picture, Pendrell saw Courtenay instead of Ambassador Kosh, looking at his report, saw Courtenay on the cover of the buff file folder, saw Courtenay when he closed his eyes, opened them, closed them again.

You don't want a pretty boy like that, Daniel, he thought. Do you? *Do you?*

I do, he said, and the waveform collapsed and suddenly he had wanted Courtenay from the first moment he saw him, wanted him badly. Schrodinger's Lust.

...it makes your eyes look very blue...

He got nothing done that afternoon.

***

At home, he tried to analyse the situation, but he couldn't even think. Courtenay possessed him to such an extent he no longer felt himself. Attraction he knew and understood. Love he had known and hoped to know again. But this--this sick feeling that turned him inside out, this hunger that ate him alive, this pressure that squeezed his heart to water--this was new.

And why Courtenay? True, he was beautiful. Smart. Sexy. Nice. But how did all of this combine with a touch of the hand and a few kind words to make Pendrell ill with wanting? And how could a sick man study his own disease?

There was nothing to analyse anyhow. Pendrell knew with a certainty born of long experience that anything he wanted so much he would never get. And Courtenay--he could have anyone, anyone at all. If Helmers didn't get in there first, someone else would before long. No need to make it worse by trying.

Every morning that week, Pendrell woke from nearly unremembered dreams, always hot but never wet. He masturbated furiously in the shower, subduing the willing flesh and cursing the weak spirit, not allowing himself to even think of Courtenay as he beat himself into submission.

Every day, his eyes fluttered moth-like to Courtenay. Every day, he looked away, singed by a returned glance. Every day, he was drawn back again. He met Courtenay's invitations to lunch or a movie with weak excuses and firm refusals. He didn't dare to visit the gym or even the cafeteria. If he couldn't have Courtenay in his bed, he didn't want him in his life either. It was too hard.

Every night, unable to concentrate on anything, he walked and walked the dark streets, need twisting a hard knot in the pit of his stomach and flattening a blackness over his mind. Time, he told himself. Give it time and it will fade.

But none of his journals could tell him the half-life of desire.

***

Friday afternoon, Pendrell sat at his desk, sorting through reports and contacting agents. Just a little while longer and he would be safe at home for the weekend. Safe in his own little world of laundry, cat food, and pain.

Rojcewicz's voice startled him. "Come on, Pendrell, it's a quarter to six. We're ready to go."

Damn! It wasn't just Friday, it was the third Friday, burger and beer night. He looked up at the other man.

"Uh, Rojcewicz, I'm pretty tired. I'm just going to--"

"No, you're coming with us. You've been working too hard this week."

"But I've got to--"

"Helmers," Rojcewicz called. "He's resisting arrest."

Her voice floated back through the open door. "Just turn off the power bar and drag him."

"Well?" Rojcewicz moved over to the outlet. "Are you going to come quietly?"

Obviously there was no such thing as free will. Pendrell shut down and joined the group, six in all that night, including Courtenay, who looked him up and down for a long moment.

"Does he always give you this much trouble?" Courtenay asked Helmers.

"Only about half the time." She smiled up at him as they all left together.

***

Lagging behind the others, Pendrell watched Courtenay walk beside Helmers, watched the play of his hips and the movements of his back. They laughed together and it felt like a hook in Pendrell's gut.

Inside the Headless Woman, they found their usual booth and Pendrell slid in first. Courtenay took the seat beside him and treated him to a stunning smile that didn't remove the hook, but twisted it. Rojcewicz dragged a chair to the end of the table, but they were still one seat short.

"Squish over," Helmers commanded. Pendrell tried, but he was already flush with the wall. Then Courtenay moved closer, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, warm and muscled thigh pressing tightly against his own, and Pendrell felt the pricking heat creep up his face, flush with desire.

Someone filled his glass and Pendrell drank deeply, willing it to cool and relax him. Mingled with the pungent tang of beer was another scent, familiar somehow. It wafted through Pendrell's synapses, searching, searching. Then the neurons fired and Pendrell saw Courtenay in front of him and felt his touch, barely there, at his throat, and heard his voice...

...it makes your eyes look very blue...

Arousal jolted Pendrell, electrifying him completely. His knuckles whitened on the glass, his muscles tensed involuntarily, and everywhere his body touched Courtenay the current ran. And was returned.

Pendrell knew, knew with his body, his shoulder and his thigh, knew with his blood-thickened cock: Courtenay wanted him too. The pain of desiring something he couldn't have was nothing compared to the terror of actually getting it.

He drained his glass. Courtenay picked up the pitcher and filled it again, turning his head just enough to catch Pendrell's eye for a moment and lift the corner of his mouth.

"So," Courtenay addressed the table, "tell me more about the illustrious Agent Pendrell. Is he good to work for?"

"In four years, he's only made one mistake on an analysis."

"But he burned out three coffee pots."

Pendrell almost squirmed with embarrassment, but suddenly realised he had license to blush and he'd better take advantage of it.

"What about the time we had to work all night on the LeQuesne case and he made us that super-caffeinated lemonade?" Laughter rippled around the table.

"I didn't sleep for three days!"

"Or when the Director was touring the building and he forgot to tell us--"

"--and it was Helmers's birthday so we were all wearing Groucho glasses--"

The hilarity bordered on hysteria and Pendrell let it carry him too, glad of the chance to release some tension.

Courtenay leaned in at the shoulder. "Clearly a man of many talents." His breath feathered Pendrell's cheek. "I look forward to learning more."

The arrival of the food broke the conversation and reduced it to nuggets of gossip, sports team chat, and Benson's stories about his adorable year old daughter. Pendrell picked at his food in silence and drank his beer, all the while feeling every twitch and ripple of Courtenay's thigh. Unable to stop himself, he pressed back and saw Courtenay's cat-like smile of acknowledgement, ostensibly directed at the snapshots Benson held out. Pendrell's cock throbbed, erect as he had not been in public for many, many years.

"Pendrell, are you going to eat that?" Rojcewicz asked.

Staring at the barely touched plate, Pendrell sighed. "No, go ahead." His stomach knotted tightly and his appetite was not for food.

Helmers went to the bar for more beer. Courtenay stayed close for a moment, then slid out of the booth. "Back in a flash," he said. "Don't let them take my plate."

Pendrell watched him heading for the washrooms in the back and had a sudden vision of himself following Courtenay, taking hold of him, falling back into a stall and...

Too much. As the warmth at his side faded, his panic mounted. Fight or flight? No contest. Gathering his coat around him before he stood, hopeful camouflage, he tossed some bills on the table. "I really do have to go--got some stuff at the lab to pick up first. But thanks for dragging me out."

He walked carefully to the door, tipsy with beer and lust, pushed outside, triangulated his position, charted his course, and set out.

***

He opened his eyes and stared into the light, sheeting white pain.

"You were asleep."

Courtenay's voice. Pendrell turned towards it. "I can't see. The light's too bright."

"Mine eyes dazzle." A dark figure moved closer and Pendrell blinked it into dim focus. "You can't stay here all night," Courtenay said.

Here--the lab, at his desk. "I just--"

"Come on, I'll drive you."

"That's OK, I have my car." Pendrell stood, too quickly, and the blood rushed from his head. He grabbed for the desk, but Courtenay was quicker, taking him by the shoulders.

"No, you can't drive." Courtenay gripped him tighter, closer, fixed him with the dark glow of his eyes. Pendrell, still in a haze of sleep, lust, and light, pulled the blonde head down and kissed Courtenay before he could tell himself not to.

The scent of aftershave and a long day's work shimmered around them, the faint sour taste of beer warmed between their open mouths. Courtenay's hands loosed Pendrell's shoulders, one cradling the nape of his neck, the other sliding up and down his back. Pendrell caressed Courtenay's side, testing the muscles and finding each rib.

So good. Pendrell opened his lips a little more, kissed more aggressively. A small adjustment of arms and legs and they pressed close together, Courtenay's tongue flicking into Pendrell's mouth, Pendrell's cock pushing insistently into Courtenay's thigh.

Courtenay pulled back a little to kiss along Pendrell's jaw and down the side of his neck. Pendrell opened his eyes and again the white light blinded him.

"Time to go." The words buzzed against his ear.

"Wait...I can't..."

"Can't what? You can't drive, but you seem quite capable of anything else." Courtenay ran the back of his hand over Pendrell's cheek, catching the evening rasp. "I'm taking you home." He turned off the lamp and pushed Pendrell out the door.

In the car, they didn't speak, except for the address, and they didn't touch, but arousal and desire flared around them and when they got to Pendrell's apartment he couldn't get the door open fast enough. The deadbolt finally snapped back and Courtenay reached past him for the doorknob, propelling them both through the door and slamming Pendrell up against the hallway wall.

The door banged, the bolt snicked, and Courtenay was upon him. They moved together, a thing of mouths and hands, of heat and friction. Courtenay unknotted Pendrell's tie with deft fingers and dropped it to the rug, undoing the shirt buttons and working a pointed tongue into the hollow of the collarbone.

Some ghosts of panic still haunted the back of Pendrell's mind, warning him that this could all end badly. So be it, Pendrell told them. But for once I'm going to take what I can now and worry about the rest later. He gathered his strength and pushed Courtenay, manoeuvring him around the corner and into another wall, exorcising the worries with a kiss.

They took turns, crashing from wall to wall with an enthusiasm Pendrell knew he'd hear about later. When they turned the final corner into the living room, they were both bare to the waist and glowing with exertion.

"I have you now," Courtenay growled and, dragging Pendrell over to the couch, pushed him down, falling on top.

A loud yowl surprised them both. Courtenay switched on a lamp just in time to see Macavity streak out the door. Pendrell looked up at Courtenay and they both began to laugh, collapsing together and shaking the couch.

Courtenay nuzzled Pendrell's cheek. "Is she OK?" He hooked off his glasses and tossed them onto the end table.

"He. Macavity. Yeah, just scared, I think." His hands wandered Courtenay's smooth back, then slid downwards to cup his buttocks, squeezing them through the fabric.

"Mmm, that's more like it." Courtenay moved his hips, pressing down against Pendrell. "Daniel...Daniel, sit up and take off your pants." His hot tongue trailed along Pendrell's jaw back to his ear. "I want to suck your cock."

"What?" The word jerked out before Pendrell could stop it.

"If you need it in words of more than one syllable, Mr. Science, I would like to perform fellatio on you." Courtenay pulled them both into a sitting position. "But I think 'I want to suck your cock' sounds better." He licked his lips, slowly and with great care. "Don't you?"

Oh God, just when he thought there was nothing left to blush about. But the blunt crudeness of the words proved that wrong. And thinking about Courtenay's mouth, red and swollen with arousal, that mouth on his cock...

"Yes," he whispered. "I do."

"Then take them off. I want to see."

"But what about you?" Pendrell, trying hard not to feel out of his league, slid one hand up Courtenay's thigh and over his erection, tracing its straining outline. It twitched beneath his fingers and Pendrell felt an answering jerk from his own untouched cock.

Courtenay pressed his own hand down over Pendrell's for a moment, then took them both away. "I like to wait." He dropped to the floor and pulled off Pendrell's shoes, then his own. "Come on, then, drop them."

Unbuckling, unzipping, peeling down the layers, Courtenay helping, Pendrell undressed as quickly as he could. Naked on the couch, he shivered suddenly, not quite chilly.

Shit, he'd forgotten...it had been too long. "Wait, shouldn't we use a condom or something?"

"I hate the taste." Courtenay's lips hinted at a pout. "Are you clean?"

"Uh...well, I..."

"You're clean. And I like to live dangerously."

Courtenay paused a moment, hands on Pendrell's knees, and Pendrell basked in the glow of his face, his dark and shining eyes, blond hair gleaming in the gentle light, cheekbones sharpened by the shadows, blinding smile, subtly sculpted shoulder and chest. Apollo pursuing Hyacinthus.

Apollo spoke, each word an arrow of desire piercing Pendrell. "I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you." And he bent to his work.

Warm palms pushed their way up the inside of Pendrell's thighs, spreading his legs farther apart. Courtenay's tongue shivered along the ball sac, teasing for a moment, then licked one testicle right into his mouth.

The tingles of pleasure bordered on pain. "No, too much..." Pendrell gasped.

Courtenay gently released him. "Sorry, I'll be careful." He drew his tongue slowly along the underside of Pendrell's shaft, then ringed the base with finger and thumb, coaxing it back to painful hardness. Pendrell shuddered as Courtenay's tongue circled the rim of his cockhead, around and around, then flickered across the top. Courtenay took the head inside his mouth, swirling his smooth-rough tongue along the slit and back over the top, sucking and moving so the rim pulled through his lips, then out again. His free hand gently stroked Pendrell's balls and pressed against the perineum.

Never had Pendrell felt so focused on, been the object of such intense concentration. The sensations spiralled out along every nerve, subtle fire under his skin. He wanted to touch Courtenay's face, stroke his hair, and he reached out one hand, but couldn't do more than rest it against Courtenay's cheek. The tension mounted, but for how long he couldn't tell--a moment, an eternity, something in between. Then orgasm overtook him and white light pulsed behind his closed eyes.

When he opened them again, Courtenay was beside him on the couch, catching his mouth in a kiss slippery with his own semen.

"First one's free, Danny Boy."

Pendrell laughed and ran his hand along the cheekbone's edge, tangled it in the curls. "I think I had a near-death experience."

"If you saw Elvis, I don't want to know about it." He took Pendrell's mouth again, only for a moment. "Are you tired? I can go and let you sleep." He paused and his eyes glinted wickedly. "I accomplished my goal for the night."

"What?" God, Daniel, can't you say anything else?

Courtenay thumbed one hardened nipple and Pendrell realised how cold he had become.

"My goal. My plan. To blow you at least once before the week was over. I was a little concerned mid-week, but tonight at the bar I knew you'd let me." The brown eyes softened, candle flames instead of halogen. "Thank you."

Pendrell stared, unable to quite comprehend what Courtenay was saying. But he knew one thing with certainty.

"Jerry." He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Courtenay's. "Let's go to bed. I'm freezing out here." And Courtenay smiled, lighting the whole room.

Tangled together on the bed, arms and sheets and legs, Pendrell touched the other man everywhere, taking his time as Courtenay urged him to slowness. His hands and mouth saw in the dark as he built another image of Courtenay for his collection. Long muscled thighs took shape beneath his palms, his fingers moulded breathing curves of chest and belly. His tongue drew up peaking nipples from the smooth planes, sunk the puckered navel deep into the panting abdomen.

Touching the broad strokes of heated sweat and day-long skin with finer lines of aftershave and faintly sour breath, he added another layer to the memory. He sketched every sigh of breath and gasp of pleasure, shaded in soft laughter and louder groans. In the centre, his hand slicked Courtenay's cock and the whispered invocations crescendoed, thrumming in his ears until he realised he was the one calling out to God as Courtenay matched him stroke for stroke.

Pendrell used every bit of willpower he possessed not to be first, savouring the clenching pain of Courtenay's teeth as he came against Pendrell's shoulder. Then Courtenay drew breath, moved his hands, and again Pendrell saw nothing but the light.

***

A dream woke Pendrell and for a moment the room seemed alien. The warmth of another body in his bed brought it all back and he smiled into the darkness. His eyes sought the red numbers hanging in the air: 3:11. Lying still, he drifted over the words he'd use to describe how he felt right then: languid, satisfied, boneless, slack, sated...His stomach rumbled. Starving.

What was his body's problem? It wouldn't let him eat, and then it complained that it was hungry. Pendrell pondered just staying there and trying to evolve into an energy being, but that would probably take more than just a few hours. So he slowly hooked his ankle out from under Courtenay's and pressed a careful kiss against his cheek before sliding out of bed.

The air chilled his naked skin, but Pendrell took perverse pleasure in the cold. He'd show himself who was boss. Padding into the kitchen, he got out some cereal. When he took the milk from the refrigerator he almost relented and went back for his bathrobe, but decided it was too much bother.

Crunching Corn Flakes, he deliberately kept from waking up too much. Dealing with his body was enough for now; no need to let the mind pester him too. Macavity twined around his legs underneath the table, soft fur warm against the gooseflesh. Then the cat skittered away and Courtenay sat down beside him, naked but not shivering.

Pendrell smiled. "Bowls are in the cupboard."

Courtenay smiled back and Pendrell's heart turned over. "No thanks." He ran two fingers over the marks on Pendrell's shoulder and it shot warmth down to the bone. "I woke up and saw the light. Are you OK? I mean, are you freaked out by this?"

"I guess I'm just wondering what 'this' is."

"Whatever we want it to be." His hand settled on Pendrell's arm. "Like I said, I wanted you since I saw you. I still do. I admire your work, I enjoy your company, I think about you when I jerk off at night."

Pendrell felt his skin flash hot and cold again.

Courtenay grinned and squeezed gently. "Blue Eyes, you're beautiful. So, I want a fuckbuddy, I want a friend, and maybe there'll be more. That's blunt, but honest. What do you want?"

Everything, Pendrell thought. I want everything. But I'll take anything. "That sounds like a good place to start." He took a bite. "Damn, it's soggy."

"Come back to bed. I'll take you out in the morning and we can talk more then."

Under the sheets, Courtenay spooned against Pendrell's back, burying one hand in his chest hair. Soon his breathing slowed and his body relaxed into sleep, soft weight pressing Pendrell into the sheets.

Pendrell lay inside the circle of warmth, staring out into the dark where visions of Courtenay still flickered. I'll worry about the rest later, he told himself. His stomach complained again, but he pushed the hunger back and waited open-eyed for the sun to rise.

F I N I S

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Some notes on Apollo:  
Besides being associated with light and the sun, Apollo is connected to prophecy, music, medicine, and plague. He's the Farshooter, Silverbow, and not the sort of person you would really like to have standing beside you. And, appropriately, in one of his aspects, he's associated with mice. I leave the reference to Apollo and Hyacinthus as an exercise for the reader.


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